


If I Could Want

by Reyka_Sivao



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek - Various Authors
Genre: Communication, Erotica, Explicit Consent, F/F, Femslash, Lesbian Sex, Lesbians in Space, Like so much consent, Neck Kissing, Queer Themes, Safeword Use, Sensuality, Sex After Trauma, Star Trek: Dwellers in the Crucible - Margaret Wander Bonanno, Tribadism, Vulcan Culture, more or less, purity culture, t’hy’la
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:01:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27446815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reyka_Sivao/pseuds/Reyka_Sivao
Summary: Cleante and T’Shael have reunited, but T’Shael is still struggling to overcome a lifetime of self-effacing guilt and trauma.Cleante just wants her to want.
Relationships: Cleante al-Faisal/T'Shael
Comments: 7
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set right after the book. T’Shael in particular is just...god she needs therapy. But especially, she’s basically experienced her recent pon farr as a kind of sexual trauma.
> 
> So basically when T’Shael indicates she’s interested, Cleante is very careful to check in, like, a lot.

T’Shael did have her own assigned quarters, but after that first reunion, neither of them could bear to be parted. 

In fact, they received so little use over the next week that the quartermaster asked if they would like any requirements redirected to Cleante’s. Or perhaps they needed a cabin with an additional bunk? Or...a wider bunk?

“What do you think?” said Cleante. 

“What option would you prefer?”

Cleante smiled. “Vulcan redirection at its finest,” she said. “I have my own thoughts, but I’d like to hear yours first.”

T’Shael was silent for long enough that Cleante’s smile turned a little sad. 

“Oh T’Shael,” she said. “Why is it still so hard for you to _want_ things?”

T’Shael took a measured breath. “I...have grown...accustomed to sharing the same bunk.”

Cleante brushed the back of T’Shael’s hand with her fingertips. “Thank you,” she said very softly. “I would like the same.”

They still had little but the clothes on their backs, so it took very little time to reassign their quarters. 

Cleante settled in sitting on the edge of their new bunk. “Comfy,” she said, patting it gently. 

“Your standards may have adjusted recently.”

Cleante smiled, but again it had that sad edge to it.

“T’Shael,” she said, “would you like to sit on the bed with me?”

T’Shael moved and sat down next to her. 

Cleante again brushed the back of her knuckles. “You don’t need my permission,” she said. “You’re allowed to do things because you want to do them.”

T’Shael looked down, avoiding their joined hands. 

“It is...difficult.”

“I know,” said Cleante. “So…thank you. It means so much to me when you try.”

With more effort than she wanted to admit, T’Shael looked up in those eyes she so easily lost herself in. 

“If...I wanted…”

Cleante’s fingers were still stroking the back of her hand. Slowly, leadenly, T’Shael turned her hand over and folded her smaller fingers down, leaving the first two free to stroke down the length of Cleante’s index finger. 

Cleante made the smallest of gasps, and the happiness that flooded her eyes more than made up for the effort that small action had taken. 

“You wanted to touch me,” she said softly. 

T’Shael closed her eyes and fought against herself. Everything in her training, her upbringing, her control, told her not to truly hear those words. To analyze them until the emotions they stirred in her skin were mastered and set aside. 

“Yes.”

Why, why was that one word so hard?

Cleante responded to her touch, mirroring the gesture and running her own fingers around the calloused terrain of her hand and fingers. 

Then again, nothing worth doing came without effort. 

“If…” started Cleante. “If you want to touch me...would you like to touch more of me?”

Again the two halves of T’Shael warred against each other. There were so many logical reasons to say no, so many practiced ways of dodging the question. But even among those, she found one ally: her lifelong commitment to the truth.

“Yes.”

It was fractionally easier this time. 

“What part of me would you like to touch?”

It took T’Shael a moment to control the surge of blind panic. It must have shown, too, because Cleante lifted her hand to brush comfortingly against her arm. 

“Or would you prefer if I made suggestions?”

“Yes,” said T’Shael, and that one was easy. 

Cleante smiled again. “How would you feel if I took my shirt off?”

T’Shael took a long breath to give that the consideration it deserved. “As we have lived in close quarters for quite some time, it would not be completely unfamiliar.”

“That’s still technically a dodge,” said Cleante, lips twitching. “But I’ll take it.” She pulled at the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head. 

She was not wearing a bra, T’Shael noted with the detached internal tone of a researcher. It was easier that way, to stay in her mind, and ignore any reaction of her body. 

Cleante deliberately folded her shirt once, then twice, and set it aside before returning her attention to T’Shael. 

“Will you tell me what you’re feeling?”

T’Shael closed her eyes again and forced herself to set aside her mind as she had so often set aside her body.

“I…..” She opened her eyes and looked at Cleante again. She took in the bronze glow of her skin, darker at the nipples, and then up again at the face framed by dark curls and those _eyes._ She forced herself to look, and she forced herself to _feel._

She forced herself to exist in her body, to feel the ghostly shiver running down her spine, her heart rate increasing as she lowered her control, the twitch of her hands as it took her effort to keep them still. 

“I feel…”

She felt her heart, her skin, her pulse in her veins, the bed holding her up, the floor under her feet, the brush of air against her face, Cleante’s hand brushing hers.

“I feel you.”

“Is that a good feeling?”

“It...is a good feeling. Yes.”

“Would it be a good feeling if you touched my chest?”

The little voice inside her was a little stronger now. _Yes, yes,_ it whispered. But it still couldn’t quite out-shout the clamor that insisted she was not permitted. 

“I would not know without experiencing it.”

It was not quite the yes she wanted so badly, but it was as much as she could bring herself to manage. 

Cleante smiled. “Then experience it.”

T’Shael immediately shifted away from attempting to feel and took a deep, controlling breath. 

She could do this. She was both _able_ to do this, and she was _allowed_ to do this. 

She dared to raise her hand and touch. 

Her touch was feather-soft, and she twitched her hand back when Cleante giggled. 

“No, no, yes, it’s fine!” said Cleante. “It just tickled. Maybe try just a tiny bit more pressure?”

Guidelines made it a little easier. Once again she raised her hand to touch Cleante’s breast, but this time she allowed her hand to completely connect with Cleante’s skin. 

This time, instead of tensing, Cleante leaned into the touch. After a moment, she giggled again, but it was a different tone.

“You can move your hand if you want.”

The skin of Cleante’s breast was as smooth as her own hands were rough and calloused. Surely they deserved better than she could offer. 

“Would you like it if I touched you too?”

“I…”

The truth, she needed the truth. 

“I...would.”

Cleante’s smile glowed like the lamp flame she had spent so much time in her life staring into, and like the flame, the more she stared into it the more she felt steadied. 

“Where would you like me to touch you?”

That one was too much. Nothing T’Shael could do would force any words to form. 

Instead, she silently pulled back and undid the fastening on her top. 

Nudity was not a source of shame. Bodies were the vessels that housed one’s consciousness. But this _wanting…_

“Is this what you want?” said Cleante, and reached out towards T’Shael’s breasts with the question echoed in her eyes. 

T’Shael managed a jerky nod. 

The touch of Cleante’s hand sent indefinable sensations out through her skin like a shockwave. Once again, she had to force herself past the instinct to isolate herself from her body and analyze every piece of tactile information into submission. Instead, she closed her eyes and felt. 

“Do you want me to stop, or keep going?”

T’Shael inhaled. “Continue.”

Her eyes were still closed, but she felt Cleante’s other hand join the first. “Still good?”

“Yes.” It slipped out easier this time. 

Cleante continued in silence for a little while, unhurriedly tracing the curves of T’Shael’s chest, up to her shoulders, down to the ribs that still showed from their time in captivity. T’Shael just sat there, trying to take it all in. 

“I like this,” said Cleante, tracing a lazy circle around one areaola. 

“It is…” T’Shael struggled for the right word. “...gratifying.”

Cleante laughed. “I’m glad to hear it.”

T’Shael’s skin tingled at Cleante’s every stroke. She even let herself shiver a little. 

“Cleante…” 

“Yes?”

“If...I...could make...a request.”

“Anything.”

“Will…” she inhaled. “Will you..also touch my back?”

Cleante almost glowed with joy. “Yes,” she said. “I would love that.”

T’Shael shifted to turn away, and Cleante let her soft touch travel over her shoulder and trace down one shoulderblade and up the other. 

A spasm twitched through T’Shael’s body.

Cleante stopped. “Do you want me to change something?”

“...no,” said T’Shael. “I...do not want that.”

She could almost feel Cleante’s smile through her skin as the human woman resumed her explorations. 

“Thank you for letting me know,” said Cleante. “I love hearing what you want. I also love hearing what you don’t want. I want to do things that we both like.”

T’Shael took another deep breath. “I promise,” she said, “that I will do my best to inform you in both cases.”

Cleante traced her finger down T’Shael’s spine. Shivers ripped their way through T’Shael’s skin, in a way that her devotion to truth forced her to categorize as ‘pleasant’.

At least, they did until Cleante passed below the area her top would have covered and toward her buttocks. She swallowed hard and kept her promise.

“Cleante, I would...prefer that you...slow down.”

Cleante paused, and started tracing back up again. “Like this?”

“Yes.”

“So that was too low?”

T’Shael made herself pause before answering so that her words would would be true rather than instinctive. 

“For now,” she said deliberately. “I am unsure if I will change my mind later.”

“Thank you,” said Cleante again. “Sincerely.” She traced her way around T’Shael’s shoulders and upper back, staying within the area that was starting to feel safe rather than uncharted territory. 

Cleante stopped. “You know,” she said casually, “I would rather like to kiss your neck.”

T’Shael’s heart almost stopped. 

Cleante resumed her tracing, just as unhurriedly as ever. 

Breathing was important. That was every Vulcan child’s first meditation lesson, but right now, T’Shael was at the far more basic level of needing oxygen. She inhaled and tried to regain control. 

And then remembered that in this space, she did not have to.

“Please,” she said. “I would...like that.”

Cleante shifted closer behind her and her hands disappeared from T’Shael’s back. 

Warm breath tickled at the nape of her neck, and T’Shael’s skin tensed as every hair stood on edge. 

The kiss was the softest of touches, but it fell on that unbearable tension like a spark on gunpowder and T’Shael’s entire being seemed to snap. 

“Was that a good jump or a bad jump?”

T’Shael caught her breath. “That was...pleasant.”

Cleante laughed. “I see,” she said. “Would you like me to do it again?”

“Yes.”

Still laughing—that musical sound that had been so painfully absent during their captivity—Cleante leaned back in and placed another kiss at the base of her neck. 

It was less explosive than the first, but it still made indefinible feelings dance through her skin and infiltrate every inch of her body. It seemed like her body was struggling to even contain such a quantity of _feeling._

Cleante kissed her again, a little to the left, a little to the right. Then she shifted her weight again and her fingertips reappeared on T’Shael’s shoulders. She resumed the tracing from earlier, but kept adding in little kisses. 

After a little while of this, she stopped and pulled back. 

The sudden absence hit in a way T’Shael wasn’t anticipating. It was certainly not logical to expect this to last forever, but the loss stung. She turned halfway to look back at Cleante. 

“I was getting a cramp,” said Cleante with a smile. 

“Then...you do not necessarily wish to stop?”

“No,” said Cleante. “I very much want to continue. But maybe we can try something new?”

Part of T’Shael wanted to say _please no, just do that forever,_ and another part said _please yes, show me more._

She...wanted.

It had somehow slipped past her defenses without struggle, this one simple certainty that continuing in some form was preferable to stopping. She held that realization for a moment, and then locked it away for later. 

“If we try something new, we could return to any previous situation at any point, but if we continue doing the same thing, we cannot determine their relative merits.”

Cleante’s lips twitched and she snorted back a laugh. “Logic to the rescue! I should have expected nothing less from my beautiful Vulcan.”

T’Shael wasn’t sure if she was more taken aback by the adjective or the possessive, but she let them pass without comment. 

“What do you suggest, then?”

Cleante stood up and held her hand out. T’Shael only had to dismiss a twinge of instinctive objection this time before accepting the offered hand and letting Cleante guide her to her feet. 

“I was thinking more of a hug,” said Cleante, stepping closer. 

T’Shael entered the embrace, letting their skin slide together as Cleante’s hands danced their way around her sides and up her shoulderblades. T’Shael involuntarily shuddered as Cleante’s fingers hit some particularly sensitive nerve and sent a new wave of shivers through her skin. 

A memory surfaced, unbidden. Cleante’s body pressed beneath hers as the storm swept around them. 

“Touch me,” breathed Cleante into T’Shael’s ear, and the lightning from the memory seemed to strike T’Shael’s skin. 

She slowly reached up and mirrored Cleante’s motions. Surely she could never offer anything close to the sparks that flew from Cleante’s dancing fingers, but if Cleante desired her touch, she would offer what she had. She let her calloused finger caress the muscles of Cleante’s back with the same care she had given to drawing music out of the strings of the ka’athyra. 

Cleante made a sound like one of pain. 

T’Shael made a motion to pull back, afraid she’d somehow hurt her, but Cleante tightened her arms just long enough to tell her she was welcome to remain. 

“Good sound,” Cleante whispered, her breath once again brushing past T’Shael’s ear with a gentleness that made T’Shael suddenly understand the sound she had heard. 

It was a strange feeling. As a musician, she was certainly not unfamiliar with touch eliciting sound, but certainly she had never considered…

Her fingertips found the pattern of Cleante’s spine, and she experimented with the lightest touch she could manage. 

Cleante made another sound that she was this time able to interpret as ‘good’ and reached up to touch the side of T’Shael’s neck with equally ghostly fingers. 

They continued like this for a while, trading caresses and exploring new spots on each other’s skin that might garner some reaction. 

“Hmm,” said Cleante contentedly. “I like this. But I’m also thinking it might be nice to be naked.”

T’Shael considered this. 

“I believe that is worth trying.”

Cleante pulled away, letting her hand drift down T’Shael’s arm as she did, leaving a trail of warm sensations in her wake. 

“So,” said Cleante, finally separating from her entirely. “Do you have ideas, or do you want suggestions?” As she spoke, she lazily undid fastenings and removed the last of her clothing. 

T’Shael started to follow suit, trying to remember that nudity was a natural state, and nothing worth a feeling of shame. “As I am...inexperienced...I believe you should take the lead.”

Cleante smiled. “Well,” she said, “I was thinking you could just lie down and let me try things you might like?”

T’Shael took a deep breath. She did not deserve this, she was sure on a level that was immune to logic. “If...that is what you want.”

“But I want to know what _you_ want,” said Cleante sadly. 

“I…” T’Shael struggled for a moment. “I...find it...difficult...to accept...without it being you who chooses. But I do not have any objection.”

Cleante nodded slowly. “Ok,” she said. “I really do want to touch you...but I also want to only do things that you like. Will you...will you promise me that you will tell me if I do anything you don’t want? I mean, I’ll keep asking, but...please. Promise me you won’t self-sacrifice yourself into going beyond your limits.”

T’Shael nodded slowly. “You have my word.”

The look in Cleante’s eyes was worth the effort. “Lie down,” she said. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Slowly, T’Shael settled herself on top of the coverlet. She felt...exposed, but not threatened.

“You’re tense,” said Cleante. “Are you sure you’re ok?”

Another breath to settle herself. “I...believe so.”

The bed shifted under her as Cleante sat beside her. “Ok,” she said. “Is this good?” She placed one hand between T’Shael’s breasts. 

T’Shael felt some of the tension ease out of her without resistance. “Yes,” she said, sure this time. 

Cleante began moving her hand lazily as she had before. 

“Earlier,” she said offhandedly, “you said you wanted me to keep my hands from going too low, but that you might want to revisit that later. How are you feeling now?”

T’Shael closed her eyes and let out a breath. She had to keep her promise, and for that, she had to let herself feel what her body’s answer was. 

The newness of Cleante’s skin on hers had faded a little into a more comfortable familiarity. The sense of threat from earlier had mostly evaporated. “I feel...better.”

Cleante’s hand drifted down towards her navel, and then curved around one hip. “Like this?”

T’Shael’s entire being tensed up at the shivers going through her skin. “...yes.”

Fingers danced down her thigh, and then jumped to her other side and back up her hip. T’Shael shuddered. 

“Was that a good shiver or a bad shiver?”

T’Shael bit her lip and then forced herself to answer. “Good.”

Cleante found the divot between her hip and her lower abdomen. “And here?”

Tingles ran through T’Shael’s body, forcing her to exist there and not in her mind. But they seemed to reach ever deeper than her skin. 

The vibrations rippled outward, touching the pace of her heart in her side, speeding the blood d in her veins, her breathing labored, her awareness of her skin unbearably centered, the sensations forcing themself past the boundaries she had so carefully extended and into parts of her body that she logically knew existed but that her awareness of was usually blessedly limited. 

She knew their anatomical names, as was only appropriate. Her clitoris pulsed with energy, the walls of her vagina clenched with an anticipation of someone she did not expect. 

But more than that. Her reproductive systems were simple biology, she knew that. So why did their activation send such terror throughout her nervous system?

She was not here. She was there. 

The fever once again flooded through her veins, sending her bondmate’s need throughout her body, the tension only eased the smallest amount by the jerking motions she made against the bonds that restrained her, her heart racing, racing in a battle that could not be won, overpowering her thoughts, overpowering her very identity in a storm that she could not—

“...stop.”

It was barely a whisper. Cleante stopped. 

The terror faded, and T’Shael gasped a breath that reminded her who and where she was. 

Cleante’s worried face entered her vision. She had not remembered opening her eyes. 

“Are you ok?

Inhale. Exhale. Master the experience. 

“It is...difficult.”

Cleante’s face showed puzzlement.

T’Shael inhaled again, determined to offer the honesty she had promised. 

“It is difficult...to return...to the sensations caused by…” She was overpowered by shame. Shame in her weakness, shame that Cleante had ever seen her in such a state. 

Cleante’s hands jerked away. “Oh,” she said. “ _Oh._ T’Shael...T’Shael, I’m SO sorry. I...I just…” She turned away and buried her face in her hands. 

Her skin was settling back into equilibrium. Slowly, T’Shael sat up. 

“I am not,” she said simply. 

Cleante looked back at her through her fingers. 

T’Shael took another steadying breath.

“I said to stop. You stopped. The...the fever did not stop.”

Cleante slowly straightened up. “Are you...ok now? We don’t...we can stop, I just…”

T’Shael dared to reach out to Cleante’s gripped hands.

“Touch me again.”

Cleante looked at her in shock. “But you…”

“I reacted badly. Yes. However…” She hesitated. “When you...stopped. It helped.”

Cleante unfisted her hands with careful deliberation. “So...you’re...you’re poking at it?” she asked. “You want to approach this...feeling, when you know you have the power to stop it?”

Another piece of tension lightened in T’Shael’s chest. “Yes.”

Cleante slowly started to reach out again and paused. “It’s too much trust,” she whispers. “I don’t—I can’t—”

“I trust you,” said T’Shael, slowly lying down again. “My T’hy’la.”

“...then I will trust you to tell me what you need.”

Slowly, Cleante laid the palms of both hands against T’Shael’s belly. 

Carefully, she resumed her gentle strokes, starting around T’Shael’s hips again, curving around towards her buttocks until stopped by the bulk of the bed beneath them, and then up again, ever so slowly, around toward T’Shael’s inner thighs. 

T’Shael inhaled and exhaled. 

Once again, the gentle touch left a wake of sparks. This time, she attempted to breathe with them. 

The touch once again awakened the parts of herself she had spent a lifetime denying.

Blood rushed to answer the call. Once again, the memory threatened to engulf her, but she balanced herself at the precipice of past and present, allowing the memory its due but forcing herself to remain in the present. She was here, she was now, she was not alone. 

Her body existed. Her body was allowed to exist. Once, it might have existed only to serve the need of another, but in this moment, it was hers to accept or deny, and she chose to accept.

The muscles in her body would not relax, and she accepted that. The sensations Cleante produced in her were disquieting on a level she had trained to such perfection that she could almost not separate herself from it. 

But as much as her training and experience forced her to try and deny it, something deeper in her welcomed it. 

She allowed the sensations in her skin to roll deeper. Her skin, her purely tactile being, was secondary. 

Cleante’s every gesture forced her to acknowledge the physicality of her own body. The tiniest change reminded her of the space she occupied. 

She did not deserve that space, the old thoughts whispered. She was only allowed that which served others. 

A ripple of pleasure coursed between her thighs. 

She did not _deserve_ it!

“Still ok?” whispered Cleante. 

“I…” 

Was she?

“I will be.”

Cleante accepted that in silence and continued moving her hands, while T’Shael tried to stay afloat amid the waxing and waning sensations, forcing herself to feel them rather than retreat into guilt. The small, shame-filled part of her that _wanted_ was still fragile, but T’Shael carefully made a space for it, protecting it like a flame in the wind. 

A musical laugh hit her ears, and she opened her eyes. 

“Sorry,” said Cleante. “But...oh T’Shael, still so stoic!”

“You would prefer...a vocal reaction?”

“Well...yes. But I know that might not be easy for you, so I understand. It’s just hard, when you control so hard, for me to tell what to do more and what to do less.”

“I see.”

She did see, but she was also not sure if she could promise that, even to Cleante. 

“It’s all right,” said Cleante. “I said I’d trust you to tell me.” She smiled again, and let the backs of her fingernails slide up T’Shael’s abdomen and chest. “So...how would you feel if I did this?”

She shifted and turned, climbing up all the way onto the bed and straddling T’Shael’s naked form. Deliberately, she put one knee between T’Shael’s legs and looked down at her, questioning. 

T’Shael stared up at her, trying to control her heartbeat. 

“...continue.”

“If you say,” said Cleante, this time in accented Vulcan. 

She lowered herself a little. Her hands were supporting her weight, but her lips were free, so she began planting soft kisses around T’Shael’s neck and breasts. 

T’Shael almost let herself believe that they had moved back to the purely tactile realm, and that she would no longer have to contend with the feelings of wanting and denial that plagued her. 

She almost mourned that loss. 

But then Cleante shifted her knee and nudged her thighs apart. 

T’Shael suppressed a sharp inhale, and then remembered what Cleante had said, and let her lungs take the lead. 

Cleante made a happy sound. 

She lowered the bulk of her weight on her outer leg, letting her pelvis settle against T’Shael’s hip, her thigh pressing between T’Shael’s legs. 

“Is this well?”

Cleante’s Vulcan word choice was not quite right, but T’Shael’s usual instinct toward correcting it was shadowed by the sheer force of existing in the moment.

“Yes,” she managed to gasp in the same language. 

The pressure grew, and then shifted upward against her, drawing another breath from T’Shael’s throat without her conscious permission. 

Cleante ran one hand down T’Shael’s side and slowly slid her thigh down and then up again, this time bringing a trail of moisture with it. 

T’Shael found and clutched Cleante’s hand. 

“...wait.”

The balance had momentarily shifted towards memory. She felt like she was tipping back towards that place where her own body had been out of her control. She took a few deep breaths. 

“Do you want to stop?” asked Cleante softly. 

T’Shael held on to the sound to pull herself back to the present. She was not there. Her body was hers. She was safe. 

“No,” she said, and tentatively curved her hand around Cleante’s hip. “I am ready.”

Cleante stroked the side of her face. “If you’re sure.” She began to move again, slowly at first. 

It was almost a torturous sweetness. T’Shael had known the simple biology involved since she was a child, but she had not understood. 

Cleante shifted, and found a rhythm that pressed against that sweet spot again and again. 

Each bright spark of pleasure, here, in this moment of safety, covered a little more of the terror of memory. 

T’Shael thirsted for something she could not name. 

Cleante shifted her angle just a little, and…

Oh!

She must have made a sound, because Cleante laughed and increased the pressure just a hair. 

Once again T’Shael found herself tensing under Cleante’s touch, but the quality of the tension was different than before. This time it was an anticipation, a sense that something was coming. 

Something…

The thought was lost as she slipped over a precipice she didn’t know was there. 

“Oh.” 

She found and clung to Cleante’s wrists, shuddering on waves of this unbearably sweet _something._

Cleante laughed again, and rolled far enough to the side to let herself fall on the bed rather than on T’Shael, but still pressed up against her. “Well, my dear Vulcan. Is that what you wanted?”

T’Shael found she had to catch her breath before she could answer. The jolting waves of pleasure had faded, leaving in their place a bone-deep sense of relaxation. 

“It...was.”

Fingers traced lazily across her chest. “I’m glad.”

T’Shael turned on her side towards Cleante. Cleante looked back at her, eyes almost glowing with happiness. 

“T’hy’la,” said T’Shael softly. 

“Yes,” said Cleante. 

“Thank you.”

“Always. And, you know...there are other things I should teach you sometime...if you want.”

“Yes,” said T’Shael. “I want that.”

  
  



	2. AUDIO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Two: In which I Accidentally Audio

Here is the same story only this time I am reading it aloud.   
  


[YouTube Link](https://youtu.be/y8rm6YWt2Eo)


End file.
